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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833743">happiness.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier31/pseuds/LaRondine'>LaRondine (messier31)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>champagne problems. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La Rondine - Puccini/Adami/Willner &amp; Reichert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Porn with Feelings, and MAGDA FINALLY GETS WHAT SHE DESERVES: HAPPINESS, i finally wrote smut that's kinda wild, opera fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier31/pseuds/LaRondine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>CODA TO CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS GO READ THAT FIRST // magda and ruggero celebrate the night after lisette and prunier's wedding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magda de Civry/Ruggero Lastouc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>champagne problems. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>happiness.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>one more surprise: the happiness they deserve. </p><p>I wrote this pretty much in one weekend while writing champagne problems. CP was beautiful and therapeutic to write but it got pretty heavy at times so this was so nice to work on. I actually finished it BEFORE all of champagne problems, haha. </p><p>&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The weather after the reception was cool and misty, so they took a taxi back to the hotel. Neither she nor Ruggero had had a drop to drink all night, she out of an abundance of caution after going dry for months, and he out of sympathy for her plight. Yet still there was something enchanting about the glow of the city at night, the soft, dreamy way the gas lamps spilled light onto the damp, cobbled streets. The city was intoxicating, light and shadow playing into the softness of spring around every corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked out the window, eyes shining with the passing lights of cafes and street lamps and glowing marquees. To be here was something of a dream, especially if for only a night: one stolen moment, and then back again to the hospital once more, to its clean linens and quiet halls and restful days. It was as if she was a young girl again, slipping out of her aunt's home in the dead of night to sneak a clumsy kiss with the boy down the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet at her side was no boy but a man, young and strong, wrapping his arm around her in a way that made her breath quicken just slightly as the warmth of his hand spread through her thin dress and across her body. As she watched the city slide by she knew Ruggero watched her, watched her and thanked God that he could see that sparkle in her eyes once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The taxi pulled smoothly up to the curb of the hotel, a grand old building in the beating heart of the city. Ruggero quietly paid the driver and helped her out of the car. It was beginning to rain, round, heavy drops starting to fall on the pavement and rustling the leaves of bushes and flowers that hung everywhere like a garland. She gasped and they dashed, laughing, raising their jackets and running as fast as feet tired from dancing could take them under the awning of the grand hotel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lobby was large and elegant, with chandeliers dripping with crystals hanging from the ceiling, and plush couches and chairs, a full bar; her eyes tried to take in the vast scene all at once. Despite the lateness of the night, men played cards and ladies smoked cigarettes out of long holders; a waiter in a tuxedo brought drinks around the lounges and chairs, smiling and bowing to the guests. In the past she would have joined every conversation, greeted every new face as a friend, kissing cheeks and laughing and raising a glass to youth and love. Once, those things had made her happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand squeezed his tightly, and he looked at her expectantly. "Let's go up," she murmured, just loud enough for him alone to hear about the warm chatter of voices and the gramophone in the corner. He smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their luggage had been brought from the train station so there was nothing more to do except take the wide, sweeping staircase up together, each step filled with contentment as much as anticipation. Illicit affairs these were not; this was no secret liaison, no forbidden tryst with a lover at midnight. Just one night away from the rest of the world and time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a soft click, Ruggero opened the door and they stepped into the room; it was comfortably large, with windows overlooking the city and a plush bed in the center of the room. Their bags, one each, sat on the bureau. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took her heels off and stretched her feet, aching from dancing. Ruggero undid his tie and took off his navy suitcoat, folding it over a chair. He came behind her and slipped his arms around her, holding her close to him. She hummed with happiness before twisting to quickly kiss him.  "I have to call the hospital and check in with them," she reminded him. "I'm going back down to the lobby." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded. "Do you want me to come down?" he asked, and she shook her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, but thank you. You've done so much for me tonight already. Thank you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My pleasure," he said with a smile. "You don't know how much I've missed you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled back, slipping her shoes back on. "I'll just be a minute," she promised. She pressed another quick kiss onto his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, his eyes crinkling with affection. "I'll be waiting." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lobby was still bustling. Someone had changed the record in the gramophone to an upbeat jazz number, and there were several couples dancing to the music. The concierge had asked her to wait just a moment, and she scanned the crowd to any familiar faces. There were a few that she might have recognized, many months ago, friends of friends and the like, but nobody she knew closely. She had few worries about being recognized herself; after a year with Ruggero, months of self-imposed isolation, and another four months away from the high life of Paris altogether, she could comfortably say she had been forgotten by all but her most intimate friends. Anyone else would simply overlook her, standing off to the side in a plain dress, her gloves curiously long for the current fashion, her signature bangs grown out and hair pinned back into waves. It was that impossible dream that had started at all, a comfortable sense of anonymity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The concierge reappeared, startling her out of her reverie. He led her to a small room where she could make her call in peace. The operator connected her, and after a moment's pause, an attendant at the hospital picked up. She told him her name and the purpose of her call, and then waited again for a nurse from her ward to come to the call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Gabrielle that night, her voice familiar and friendly over the phone. Magda greeted her, and was greeted in kind; she'd finally convinced all but De Villiers to drop the Mademoiselle, and they had been happy to oblige. Gabrielle asked a few questions, how she was, what she'd eaten, if she'd had anything to drink and more of the sort. Finally, having run through every possible question to make sure her patient was alive and well, the nurse gave a satisfied click of her tongue. In a much more informal tone, she asked, "And how was the wedding?" The affection in her voice was clear even over the tinny phone line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magda laughed. "Wonderful," she said. "The groom was dashing, the bride lovely, the ceremony touching, the party after... quite a party. Parisians know how to celebrate, and the artistic ones twicefold, it seems. We-- Ruggero and I-- we had a lovely time." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gabrielle laughed suddenly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is it?" Magda asked, her cheeks warming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm not laughing at you, Magda, I promise. It's just... you sound so happy and free, I suppose; I scarcely recognized your voice at times. I'm glad you had a good time; happiness suits you well." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magda smiled despite herself, blushing for a whole new reason now. They said their goodnights, and she thanked the man at the desk before heading back up the grand staircase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anyone had ever thought romance was dead, all they needed to do was look to Ruggero Lastouc for proof of the contrary. He was waiting for her, as he'd promised. The lights were low, the bed made up. Butterflies fluttered low in her stomach, anticipation and nervousness and joy all at once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He embraced her, kissing her deeply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait, wait," she laughed. "Let me at least take my shoes off first, my love." She reached down and pulled the heels off again, standing on the plush hotel carpet beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ready?" he asked. He slid his arms around her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For what-- oh!" she exclaimed as he picked her up bridal-style. He spun around as she laughed, her arms around his neck, before he set her gently on the big bed in the center of the room and sat next to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slid onto his lap and they kissed, giddy and uncaring and simply happy to be in each other's arms once more. She pulled back and tapped on his chest, and he leaned backwards onto the bed, leaving her to straddle his hips for a moment before he rolled and trapped her, giggling, underneath him, pressing playful kisses all over her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ruggero?" she asked timidly. He laid down next to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What is it, my love?" he asked, tracing a hand down her cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thought of what she'd missed most in the hospital, what her spirit had longed for to no avail. She had not been without friends, support, even occasional laughter and cheer, but there was one thing that nobody there could give her, nobody but him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Will you hold me? I just want you-- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> you to just hold me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From behind, strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her close. "Like this?" he murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"More," she begged, and he pulled her into his embrace and held her there, a steady pressure pinning her to the moment in time, here with him. He was so warm, his chest pressing against her back, his arms and legs tangled with hers, holding her and holding her and holding her until something seemed to finally give inside her. She exhaled slowly. He kissed the curve of her cheek as she finally relaxed into his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Better?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded. He ran his hand down her arm and over the curve of her hip, brushing over her stomach and tracing ever-so-delicately over the curve of her breast before he stopped, hand resting just below her ribs, his touch gentle and tender, sensual without being obscene. Through the thin fabric of her slip she could feel the warmth of his embrace, like the sun on her skin that afternoon in the Parisian spring, beautiful and joyous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They lay like that for a quiet while, her hand covering his, feeling his breaths against her, and God how his touch was better than any drug in the world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've been very lonely," she whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Me too," he responded, and he kissed her. She was content to simply let him do so, letting him kiss those invisible wounds, those scars that only he could heal. Slowly she realized that she was kissing him back, kissing him desperately, furiously, as if it was the last wish of a dying woman. She twisted so she was facing him, and he ran his hands over her body, feeling the curve of her hips, pulling her closer to him. She wove her hands into his hair and cradled his head in her hands as he kissed her. Her head tilted back and he kissed the soft skin of her neck, down towards her collarbone and towards her chest, now rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand slipped under her dress and between her thighs. Gentle, featherlight touches moved higher and higher until he began touching her just as she'd taught him. It was like slow fire in her veins. She could feel her heart racing as her hips began to move against him. He kissed her again, whispering praise, adoration in her ear, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my goddess, my love, my light.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly she remembered the first time they'd made love, her desire mixing with guilt and fear, knowing she was lying to him and yet unable to stop herself while he drove her mad with every look, every touch, every word. </span>
  <b>She'd cried after, with Ruggero sleeping peacefully next to her, cried in wonder at how love could cause someone so much pain.</b>
  <span> When they woke the following morning, she'd been so ashamed she could barely meet his eyes, but just like every other time, he'd kissed her and all reservations had flown out the door, all inhibitions gone as she melted under his touch. Each time was worse, each day a new lie, each lie a little bigger until she was too deep and it was all too much and it was all too much and-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ecstasy slipped from grasp, and suddenly his hands were foreign, strange, touching her all over, heavy and unfamiliar. Her eyes flew open, her body stilling under his touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop, stop," she said, her voice hoarse. "Ruggero, stop." He pulled away from her; in the dim light she could see concern in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you okay?" he asked, watching her intently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a deep breath. "Yes. But I don't think... not tonight. I'm sorry." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded slightly. "You don't need to apologise. It's okay. Do you want to just lay with me?" He gently patted the bed next to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magda took another shaky breath. "I think I'm just going to sit for a while." She could feel herself pulling away from him, retreating into isolation and silence like a drunk nursing a whiskey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded again, and even in the darkness she could feel the quiet sadness and concern in the gesture, as if she was still a world away from him. She pulled her dressing gown over her, pale silk slipping over smooth shoulders, light and cool against her skin, and walked over to the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The city was surprisingly still and calm, like a snapshot in living color, passing clouds and distant lights and chestnut trees rustling in the drizzling rain on the avenue below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was cool by the window. She let the chill air swirl around her, raising bumps on her skin, and drew the thin silk more tightly around her shoulders. It was a soft shock to her body, as if she'd just been doused with cold water after too long in the sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was late. It would be morning soon, she thought. She would have to catch the eleven-am train out of Paris, two hours to the south, away from the magnetic pull of the city and back to the simplicity of the countryside. Even now, even after all the work she'd been through, still she was flawed. She would never, no matter how healthy or same she ended up, never be the perfect girl he'd met all those months ago. Maybe she would be released soon. Maybe not. Maybe she would be happy again. Maybe not. Her arms pricked with cold, and she shivered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a long day. She wanted nothing more than to fold herself into the darkness of sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, he was sitting up in the dark, his back against the ornate headboard. She walked back over and sat on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're cold," he said, opening his arms, and it was true, she was cold. </span>
  <b>Why had she wasted so long by the window, when everything she needed was right here?</b>
  <span> She slipped under the covers beside him, the warmth comfortable and familiar. He stroked her hair gently, brushing through the tangled locks with his fingers, rubbing her scalp and neck gently. The action was gentle, intimate and comforting, grounding her racing heart and disjointed thoughts. She turned to him and kissed him softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He traced his hand down her face. "</span>
  <b>You could bring men to ruination with a single kiss</b>
  <span>," he murmured, and she laughed, pressing kiss after kiss onto his face until they were both giggling, each trying to outdo the other. A kiss on the tip of his nose, another on the curve of her neck. A tender kiss on his temple, a playful one on her jawline.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you," she said, and it was a promise, proof that some things could never change between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you," he replied. "Are you sure you're okay?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded. They kissed again, long and sweet and filled with promise, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there it was, that way only he could make her feel. Like a candle fluttering just beneath her chest, a warmth, a flush that spread to her whole body with every second he touched her. She pulled him closer to her, needing to have him near her once more. She kissed him again, and he reciprocated, deepening the kiss until she moaned, her head falling back onto the pillows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ruggero," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Please..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even in the low light she could see his devious smile. "Yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't tease," she warned him playfully. She hooked her leg around him and pulled him closer to her. "I need you... I've been waiting so long for this." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Me too," he replied. Ruggero shifted back, taking her hand and pulling her into a sitting position. He trailed gentle kisses over the scars on her arm and down to her hand. She reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. He laid a hand around her waist and she hummed, his touch on her stomach warm and comforting once more. How she had missed the feel of his hands on her body. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms, feeling the muscles working underneath his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're beautiful," he whispered. She smiled and kissed him softly, a quick brush of lips before she spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ruggero... it's been a while," she murmured. "I haven't been with anyone since you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed gentle kisses over her flushed shoulders and collarbones. "We'll go slow. You can always tell me to stop again. We have time, Magda. We have time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes and kissed him, pulling him close to her. She had dreamt of this moment for many months, once believing it to be an impossible fantasy. She had waited for tonight, counting down the days until she could finally be alone with him, counting down the moments until she could feel the hard press of his body against hers, until he would make her fall apart all over again. She needed him, needed him closer, needed him inside her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm ready," she whispered. Leaning back, she drew him close to her and her eyes fluttered shut as he entered her, slow and steady, pushing in; any resistance she had feared was gone, overwhelmed by the desire to have him once more. She was already breathless, aching for him. She forced her eyes open just to watch his face, her nails digging into his arms and back as he began to move against her. He was beautiful, his body strong and steady. As she rolled her hips against him, he pressed kisses onto her chest, on her neck, the line of her jaw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled nearly all the way out, leaving her gasping, her thighs trembling. Their eyes locked. "You're mine, Magda, forever," he whispered, and just hearing him say her name like that was nearly enough by itself. He thrust back into her, their hands finding each other in the pillows and holding tight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yours," she murmured back. "Always yours, only yours." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kissed the delicate skin above her breast and her breath hitched. Above her, he smiled and she took the opportunity to squeeze around him, watching with satisfaction as his eyes half-closed, his breath quickening. Her name slipped from his mouth, choked with pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With her free hand, she drew him close. "You're mine," she hissed, playfully tossing the word back at him. And it was true, was it not? They belonged only to each other now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yours," he agreed, kissing her. He released her hand and she whimpered at the loss of contact, only to have it returned tenfold as he began to touch her again, sending goldenwhite waves of sensation shooting through her body. She gasped, her hips moving to meet his every motion until finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> release came, leaving her breathless and shaking and satisfied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He followed a moment later with a low groan before settling at her side. They lay facing each other, dazed but happy. She traced the broad planes of his chest with gentle, teasing circles over muscles and wiry hair, feeling his heart beat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was wrong to ever doubt you," he murmured, and she laughed sleepily. He reached over and turned off the lamp, casting the room into darkness once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, you weren't. You did exactly the right thing. But I love you for giving me another chance. I'd love you even if you wanted to never see me again." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled. "I can do one better," he said. "I'll love you even if I have to see you every day for the rest of our lives." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed, about to make some remark back, but his words struck her with surprising emotion. Every day for the rest of our lives. A promise that no-one else had ever made to her besides him, a promise she wanted to keep with no-one but him. God, he'd turned her into a romantic. Prunier would be appalled. She smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When his breaths steadied beside her and she was nearly sure he'd fallen asleep, she slipped out from under the blankets and crept to the bathroom, pulling her chemise back on as she went. She used the toilet and filled a glass with water, watching herself in the mirror as she drank. Under the warm light of the electric lamp, the scars on her arm were lightening, pink already fading to white. Her eyes were bright, knowing, happy. She gave herself a wry smile just as Ruggero joined her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I wake you? I didn't mean to." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. Just as she had, he relieved himself and filled a glass of water, the unspoken intimacy of the moment not lost on her. She sat on the vanity, swinging her legs idly. He set the glass down and offered her his hand. She accepted, sliding off the countertop and following him into the dark room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slipped an arm around her waist, settling one hand at the small of her back and taking her right hand in his other. In the dark and silence, they rocked back and forth to music only they could hear, feeling the gentle sway of his body against hers. Her head rested on his chest, and she slowly slid her hands to around his neck, wishing that nothing would ever take her away from this moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid her down in bed and put his arm around her, just as they'd laid for so many nights together, side by side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, exhausted, at peace, she slept. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was midmorning when she woke, golden daylight pouring through the windows of the hotel room. He was up already, sitting at the end of the bed with a newspaper on his lap, the smell of newsprint mixing with the warm aroma of coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat up and he turned around, setting the paper down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good morning," he said. He stood and poured her a cup of coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good morning," she replied, smiling shyly. He handed her the coffee carefully and she moved her legs so that he could sit on the edge of the bed by her side. He was dressed already, trousers and an undershirt, at least. There was a domesticity about the whole scene that made her heart ache with yearning. They'd had this once. Perhaps soon they would have it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sleep well?" he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes, very. You?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course," he replied. "Always better when I know you'll be there when I wake." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blushed. "Ruggero..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's breakfast," he said, gesturing across the room to where he'd gotten the coffee. "Croissants, jam, coffee, fruit."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started to get up, but he stood. "Allow me," he said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you spoil me," she purred. She sipped her coffee, considering. "What kind of jam? I suppose it doesn't matter. I'll just have some toast with my croissant, butter, and whatever jelly they've sent us." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brought a plate over and sat next to her on the bed, careful not to bump her or the coffee. It was strawberry jam: summery, sweet, happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What time is it?" she asked, taking a bite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He checked his watch. "Just after ten," he replied, and she nearly dropped the croissant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ten?" she said, shocked. "Ruggero, we're supposed to catch the train at eleven and I'm not even out of bed!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed. "There are other trains, Magda. I thought I'd let you sleep. Besides, what are they going to do at the hospital? Make you write lines?" He pantomimed writing on a chalkboard. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>'I will not be late to therapy after a rendezvous in the city. I will not be late to therapy after a rendezvous in the city. I will not be late...</span>
  </em>
  <span>'" They broke into hysterical laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"God, that sounds like something my aunt would have made me do as a kid," Magda groaned, laughing. "And you make it sound so secretive! I bet Camille will say something like that. When I said goodbye to Adela the other night she was so sweet, wishing us a safe journey, sending her love to the bride and groom, all that. And Camille-- you met once, the nurse with red hair-- she just winked and said to have fun. If I have to come back three hours late and tell her I'm sore from 'sitting on the train', I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to look her in the eyes again!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed and sipped his coffee. "Just call them when we check out and tell them that we decided to take a later train. I think so long as I return you in one piece, they won't really care." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed again. "God, I'm sure De Villiers will want to debrief me on everything when I see him this week. 'How many hors d'oeuvres did you have, Mademoiselle de Civry? What does this tell us about your emotional state? Did you dance the foxtrot? How about a tango? Was your dance partner </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> handsome?'" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughed before his face grew introspective. "Speaking of De Villiers," he said, "do you know if..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn't have to finish the question. "I don't know. I can hope, but I don't know for certain. It's in ten days."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My mother wants you to come for Easter," he stated. "So either you'll be out, or we'll just have to figure out a way for us to go down to Montauban for the weekend. She wants to meet you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Magda stared. "Still? Ruggero, how much have you told her?" She pulled out her legs from under the white sheets and slipped back into her dressing gown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugged. "She knows that you're staying in the countryside for your health. She knows that we initially broke off the engagement, and she knows we're seeing each other again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And..." Magda prompted, expectantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And that's it," Ruggero said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You didn't tell her anything else? That your almost-fiancée is a courtesan with some rather unusual scars on her arm?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Were </span>
  </em>
  <span>a courtesan, Magda, and no, she doesn't know about either. She knows I've been spending my time with a beautiful, smart, and kind woman whom I love very much, and that's enough for her, as it's enough for me. It is the truth." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She frowned, biting her lip thoughtfully. "And you're okay with that? Not telling her?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"When she meets you, she will love you just as you are." He stood and offered her his hand. She accepted, stepping into his embrace. "And yes, Magda, just so you know, I am okay with not telling her. You don't need to worry about me. I promise you that as close as I am to my family, they need not hear every sordid detail about us. We are of a different breed than our parents, and these things are just a part of our lives. My mother will be delighted to have you as a guest, and I hope that you feel the same."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took a moment to respond, touched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quiet, tender moment passed between them. "I wish I had something to offer you in return, a little slice of my life to promise you," she admitted. "I have no family for you to meet. My friends in Paris are few. You give me so much, and I feel like I have so little to give back." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You lived. I know you were in a lot of pain, and you fought, and you won. Anything I can give you pales in comparison to that feat alone," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "</span>
  <b>You are my happiness, my conscience, my best friend.</b>
  <span> Before me, you had a life in Paris, but before you, I was nothing but a shadow of my father, unformed, unrefined. You have taught me to live in a way I never thought possible." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You have given me love I thought I would never have but in dreams," she responded. "With you, anything is within reach." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They kissed, and she went to the bathroom to prepare for the day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~~~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They caught an afternoon train out of Gare du Nord heading south of the city, the car full of weekend revelers and businessmen. The skies were blue, with light spring clouds floating through the air, and the streets were full of early April flowers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She peeled an orange, offered him half. The fruit was juicy and the smell of the peel sweet as it perfumed the air of the cabin. Outside the window, Paris faded into the distance as they passed into a world of orchards and green hills, of days of sun and dew and dawns, of nights filled with moonlight and shadow and promise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She popped another segment of orange into her mouth and put her head on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things would be alright. Maybe not in the way she'd thought, maybe not in the way she'd dreamt of as a girl. Maybe things would not be perfect. But things would be alright, and she was happy to live with that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was happy to live. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the end.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay, no more surprises, i promise. go read the orange by wendy cope.</p><p>I love you all. I'm glad we exist.</p><p>la rondine</p></blockquote></div></div>
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